Outcast
by SymphonyCat
Summary: A lonely group of three foxes is traveling to join Destena the Conqueror's-a ferret warlord-army. She plans to overthrow badgerlord Borgear and take Salamandastron. A fool-hardy hare decides that, to prove herself to her fellow hares and badgerlord, she will become a spy. Meanwhile, a cunning wildcat family are also acting as spies to interfere with the war for their own gain.
1. Prologue

Sive sat in her homely, battered old rocking chair, holding an infant fox cub in her paws, rocking back and forth to keep the child in he deep sleep. She was a strong little vixen, with bright blue-gray eyes and fur of burnished orange. Her tiny brown ears twitched as she slept, bundled in a warm yellow-and-white flower-print blanket. Sive loved her little baby girl, but was troubled by who the father was. Ooh, he was a hateful, cruel beast if there ever was one. Sive loathed him with every inch of her heart. He was a horrible fox, and enjoyed killing others. His name was Tyratin.

Yes, the name would strike fear into anybeast's heart. His razor-sharp claws longed to be splattered with blood. Right now, in the early darkness brought by today's evening, Tyratin was out terrorizing some poor beasts. Sive was sure of it. No, she would not allow her sweet little vixen cub, Sira, to turn into a monster like her father.

Baby Sira's tiny, toothless mouth stretched open in a yawn, revealing her pink gums. She closed her little jaws, opened her eyes and spread her tiny toes. Sive resumed rocking, as it had ceased when she had become lost in her troubled thoughts. Ah, she needn't worry. Her sweet little baby girl would turn out just fine.

"Come 'ere lil' gal. I'm not gonna hurt ya," Tyratin soothed in a gentle voice as he tugged his wickedly sharp knife out of the child's unfortunate mother's carcass.

The tiny female ferret peeked her head out from behind the rock that she was hiding behind. The little annoyance was in to tricky a spot for a large male fox like Tyratin to squeeze couldn't have been more then a couple of seasons old, but had run like the wind when he had run her poor mother through with his weapon. Her bright green eyes were misty with tears and wide with fear. When she spoke, her voice was high-pitched with youth.

"W-who are you?" she asked tearfully, trembling as she gazed up at him. "What d-did you do to my mama?"

The pitiless fox glanced down at the dead ferret and laughed mirthlessly. He gave the body a good kick. This caused it to roll over, letting the gaping wound in her chest show. Her light, flowery green blouse was stained scarlet with blood and her golden eyes were glazed over with death. The little baby ferret cried harder then ever, cowering behind the rock with fear. She was confused. What was going on? Who was this horrible beast? What had he done to her mama? Whatever he had done, she had a horrible gut feeling that her mother was gone forever...

"You're mama? She's dead, brat!" Tyratin taunted, egged on by the little ferret's piteous cries. "Gone forever! Ha, ha, ha! And you'll never see her again! Unless..." Tyratin sharpened him blood-stained blade on the very stone that the young ferretmaid was hiding behind. "I can kill- that is to say, reunite you to her."

The terrified little ferret did not reply. She didn't trust this heartless, fearsome beast, no matter what he said. She would never come out of her safe hiding place. That is, not until he left.

Finally, Tyratin gave up on coaxing the poor frightened ferret and left her and her dead mother alone, heading towards his home. Slowly and warily, the little ferret crept out from behind the rock and curled up right there at the foot of it. She was shaking from horror and fear, the awful seen of her mother's murder playing over and over in her head. She felt hot, stinging tears pouring down her face. She lay there, trembling, for hours.

Soon, a gentle voice called softly and reassuringly to her, "Hello, there little one. You're okay. Everything's gonna be all right. Nothin's gonna hurt cha. Hey, Larkwing, over here. There's a little baby ferret over here all alone. Look's like 'er mother's been killed. Poor beast. We'd better get the little one into the infirmary 'fore the poor lil' thing dies out 'ere. Come on, gimme a paw. Open th' door."

The little ferretmaid felt gentle, caring paws wrap comfortingly around her. When she opened her eyes, she saw that she was being carried towards a large building by a kind-faced, weary weasel. She couldn't remember anything else happening after that for she fell into a deep sleep as she finally felt safe again.

•••••

Next thing the little ferretmaid knew, she was lying awake in a worn white cot. The mouthwatering smell of of homemade food wafted in from another room; the kitchen. All around her were other beds, all much like her's. Some of them had occupants, most looked horribly injured, but the majority of the beds were empty. At her bedside, two beasts, one the gentle-looking weasel that had carried her inside and the other a worn-down ferret, like herself. The two were conversing.

"I think that we should name her Destena," the weasel murmured dreamily, sure to keep her voice as lowered as was possible as to not wake anybeast. "That is, if she doesn't already know her name."

"We shouldn't be thinkin' o' names, Cora," the ferret scolded. "We have a lot o' patents, and I don' think that you should go around pickin' favorites."

"Hush, Larkwing!" the weasel said in a harsh whisper. "You'll wake her!"

The young ferretmaid shot up from where she lay in the warm little cot, surrpising both Cora and Larkwing. "I'm not asleep," she said bluntly, as to clear that up. "Where's my mama?"

"I'm sorry, honey," Cora sighed sympathetically, recovering from her previous shock, "but sadly you aren't gonna see your mama again. I'm really sorry..."

"That's what th' big, mean fox said," the small ferret whimpered, eyes welling with tears once more. "T-that I wasn' gonna see my mama eva again."

"What 'big mean fox?'" Larkwing inquired, coking her head slightly.

"T-the one that k-killed my m-mama." Her voice quaked as she forced the reply. Would she really never-_ever_-see her wonderful mother ever again? Was what these beasts were telling her true? The horrified ferret shuddered at the thought. It couldn't be true... it just couldn't.

Larkwing turned towards Cora and whispered in a serious, almost scared tone filled with hatred, "It must have been Tryratin the Terror."

"Yes," Cora sighed wearily, eyes misty with the beginnings of tears. "He has orphaned countless beasts and killed even more..." Cora shuddered as she finished her sentence. "Most of our patents are here thanks to that horror of a beast."

"W-who's Tryratin?" the little ferret asked, fear slightly giving way to deep curiosity. The two beasts obviously both hated and feared this beast.

It was Larkwing that answered. "Tyratin is a horrible fox, one that loves ta kill innocent ones 'ike youself an' your modder. Ah, ye are young for these noightmarish tales o' death an' despair, which is all that Tyratin the Terror brings."

"Then stop telling her about him!" Cora scolded, ears flattened in annoyance. "Anyway, she needs to be known bouy a name." Cora turned turned to the small ferret sitting in the cot. "What is your name, lit'l' one?"

"My name?" the ferretmaid asked, blinking with surprise, oblivious of the cold stare that Larkwing was giving Cora. Seeing as most vermin names were awfully warrior-like, the ferret's mother had hardly ever called her by her true name. "I dunno. Mama jus' called me 'mama's little girl' an' ''er sweetie pie.'"

"Oh ye poor little thing," Cora sympathized, placing a paw over her heart. "Well, we'll jus' call you Destena, m'kay?"

-Symph-


	2. Chapter One- The Travelers

"Come **_on_**, Kipper! I'll bet tha' a snail could ween a race against you. What with yer short attention span!" Sira snapped angrily. "I mean, honestly wot is it with you and butterflies, o' all things!"

"Butterfly, butterfly," Kipper murmured dreamily as he chased a delicate little white one with wings lines with faded blue, eyes closed with pure bliss.

"Oh shut up!" Sira snarled. Then she hefted the overstuffed sack more comfortably on her shoulder. She hoped that they had gathered enough food for dinner. Well, more like she hoped that _she_ had. Stupid Kipper had been to busy chasing _butterflies_.

They were walking through a beautiful meadow with waist-deep stalks of faded green grass. Flowers of all colors blossomed everywhere. Bees drifted in a sleepy fashion from flower to flower, seeking their powdery pollen. Butterflies, much to Kipper's glee, fluttered above their heads as if dancing. A distance away, the pair of foxes could see some trees up ahead; the beginnings of a forest. A little ways away from these trees, there was a little river, gurgling merrily as it flowed.

As Kipper dashed after the little white butterfly, his empty sack fastened to his shoulder with a corse, thick cord. The clumsy young fox fell into this very creek. Sira's angry expression melted and she began to laugh, pointing a finger quaking from her giggles at her floundering brother. Kipper pulled his sopping-wet head out of the water and joined in with the mirth. His older sister lent him a paw and helped him to heave himself out of the icy-cold waters.

"Hah, ha, ha, Kipper, you idiot!" Sira laughed and scolded at the same time. Recovering from her fit of giggles, Sira was able to talk normally once again. "Now, we've gotta git these food supplies to Mother and stop foolin' around. And **_no_**, ye cannot chase that stupid butterfly!"

Kipper whimpered piteously as Sira dragged him towards home by his wrist. "Take me with you, butterfly," he called wearily to one.

"God, Kipper!" Sira sighed, throwing up her free paw. "You would think that I was draggin' y' over ta torcha chambers or dungeons or somethin' of th' sort."

Soon, the pair of young fox siblings made it to 'home,' which looked quite sad. It was composed of a ragged, faded orange tent; a small fire pit to which was fixed an empty, rusty and quite useless spit, beside it was a cast iron pan that looked as though it had seen many seasons; and an outside chest inside of which they stored the little spare food they could. Tending absentmindedly to the minuscule fire with a long stick was a vixen dressed in a tattered, lace-trimmed blue blouse and a long deep-green skirt that slightly dragged the dusty earth of the grassless clearing. Her eyes were the blue of a midsummer's sky and her tried face lit up when she saw her dear cubs trooping towards her and their pathetic camp.

"Hello, Sira, Kippah!" Sive, the mother vixen, called out happily. "I tell ye, I'm starved! What have you to bit's o' dirt brought home?" She said her last sentence in a playfully teasing tone.

Sira shifted nervously, ears flattened in annoyance ad glaring fiercely at her younger sibling. "Well, ye see," she began awkwardly, fiddling with her claws anxiously. She was holding out her full sack and Kipper's empty, sopping wet one. "Kipper was, like always, chasin' butterflies like the stupid oaf he is, when 'e was suppos' to be gathering food. And so-"

"You needn't say more, Sira," Sive sighed sadly. "But Kippah, you should know better 'n ta do that! We're fightin' fer our survival as it is, an' I jus' can't..." Sive trailed off. There were so many things that she couldn't do that she that she could.

"M-hm!" Kipped said cheerfully, smiling broadly as always and nodding vigorously.

"Oh, Kipper, you're hopeless!" Sira scolded, curling her lip. "Y'know what ya are? A los' cause! A dunder-brain! A narrow-minded idiot!"

"Now, there's no need fer tha,'" Sive said, pressing a paw to her forehead to ease her pounding headache. Honestly, she couldn't get a moment's peace with all of their constant chattering and arguing. "Why don' ye show meh wha' you brought back, hmm?"

Sira obliged and dumped out berries, roots, leaves, nuts and seeds from her bag. It was a pretty sad sight for there really wasn't much.

With a heavy sigh, Sive gathered up the food and began to prepare it for dinner. She roasted about half of the leaves, boiled the roots in a cauldron of water to make the beginnings of soup, and put aside the nuts and seeds for adding to the other dishes later. As for the berries, she put them to the side as well.

"Sira, could you get some beans from the store box? And maybe some sort o' vegetable? I'm trying to make a soup. Potatoes and peas would do nicely," Sive directed, waving a paw in the direction of the ancient food chest.

Sira nodded briskly and thrust the chest's door open swiftly, searching its contents for what her mother had requested. Kipper stood by idly, smiling for the sake of smiling and generally unknowingly looking creepy.

"What can I do, Mama?" he asked, tilting his head in question. His offer of help was given with good intentions, but it sent chills up his mother's spine.

"Why don't you..." Sive searched for something that the clumsy fool of a fox could do. "You could go an' chase some butt'rflies over'n the meadow, Kippah. Jus' don't stray to far, you little rascal. Oh, Sira, you're back."

As Kipper dashed eagerly off to chase butterflies, Sira returned, looking quite down and disappointed.

"I could fin' was a few beans," she sighed, holding out a pawful of black beans and cannelloni beans. She looked both distraught and frustrated.

"It's okay, Sira," Sive reassured half-heartedly. "But I do think tha' we're likely ta starve 'fore we're able ta reach Destena the Conqueror's camp."

"Why d'ya want ta go o'er there, anyway?" Sira askedas as her mother took the sad amount of beans from her paw and tossed them into the heating soup. "I mean, from 'a rumors, she's horrible ta everybeast tha' disappoints 'er. What about Kipper? Though 'e's an empty-headed fool, I think tha' I migh' like 'im better with 'is head still on 'is shoulders. We shoul' jus' lay low."

"No, Sira." Sive shock her head as she stirred the soup, adding the un-roasted leaves to it. "Durin' a war, thur's no place fer vermin like ourselves other then the attackin' side. But, honestly, the goodbeasts have a betta cause fer fightin'. I mean, they can' jus' sit back and watch thur own git slaughtered, can they? But wu'r vermin, an' no goodbeast in 'is or 'er righ' mind woul' let us join thum. Destena's cause? She wan's ta bouy remembered! Ha, tha's sadder 'n this soup."

Soon, dinner was complete. It was to be roasted leaves topped with crunchy, lightly toasted seeds, soup, and for dessert berries and nuts. Kipper was called over and they all ate. Each beast had a regretfully small serving, but it was still a delicious meal. Another upside was that they would still have some leftover to have for breakfast the next morning.

Afterwards, the fire was put out and a small oil lamp was lit, as it was getting quite dark out by now. Sira and Kipper went off to bed but Sive stayed behind to stomp out what was left of the fire. As she did this, she thought.

They were getting close to Salamandastron, and therefore close to Destena and her army. She wondered if Sira was right and if she and her children should just 'lay low.' But no, they could not. They were foxes, after all. Vermin. They were only welcome among other vermin. Plus, sooner or later Destena's tropes would find them. If and when they did, they would ask if the trio of foxes would like to join Destena's army. Ask, huh! And if they were to say no? Why, it would be off with their useless heads!

Sure it might be a bit of a harsh life. Sure, they were bound to die at some point. But it may all turn out well. Destena was bound to win, and it would be nice for fate to allow the foxes some luck and prosperity for once. She and her cubs were sure to be well-rewarded if the contributed enough. If forced to join, then why not?

Furthermore, this war would give the fox family a chance to make their mark in the world. Though Sive disagreed with Destena's unjust cause, the only was to go was to the West, to Salamandastron and to Destena. She had trained her cubs basic survival skills and battle tactics. With a trio of good swards, the family of foxes would do quite well on the battlefield. Perhaps they would live through the war. But if they were to die, as everybeast does at some point, why not a noble death on the field of battle?

The only thing that worried Sive about this whole joining thing was exactly what Sira had said: Destena's army would surely kill Kipper for his stupidity. Sive would never forgive herself if that ever happened. She couldn't allow those heartless beasts to kill her dear little cub. Perhaps they shouldn't join? But then what would they do? They were already starving from the fact that they had so little food and Destena and her army were sure to have plenty of food. But a bit of food wasn't worth risking her son's life. She would have to sort this whole mess out in the morning.

Deciding on this, Sive smoothed her green skirt with her chocolate-colored paws and set off for bed, looking foreword to a good night's rest before another long, dragging day of travel.

-Symph-


	3. Chapter Two- Destena's Wrath

Destena the Conquerer is a female ferret with a fiery temper. She was orphaned at a young age and that had seemingly gotten her off on the wrong paw. She has little, if any, trust in anybeast. And for a reason unknown to even her most trusted adviser, Ripfang, Destena had no trust whatsoever in foxes. Everybeast didn't trust them much, seeing as they were sly, cunning, backstabbing and cruel creatures, but the ferret warlord had a raw hatred and wary distrust for the beasts.

Destena's favored weapon was a curved sward with a whickedly-sharp tip. She loved fighting, and was quite ambitious. She repeatedly told her captains and advisers that she would always be at their side in battle. This raised their confidence quite a bit, which was what Destena was aiming for.

Oh, and she was a wonderful sward-master if there ever was one. Destena's sward, Petra (and fitting name it was, for those who knew the sward and master would surely be petrified at the sight of the curved blade), never missed her mark. Destena and her sward had won many a battle and Petra and the ferret warlord longed for their next shared victory.

Ah, and the blood-thirsty pair would not have to wait much longer. QWhy, by the end of the month Salamondastron was surely to be conquered. And why was Destena going to risk thousands of lives, including her own, to win such bloody a battle? Ah, well, this is what happened to an unfortunate rat who asked this very question. His name is Ripper, and he is one of Destena's many captains.

* * *

"What is it tha' ye 'ope to accomplish with this 'ere war, Milady?" the kneeling rat inquired, trembling at his own impudence.

Normally, Destena would have had much more patience with her captain, especially as seeing that he was such a good one. But not today. She was currently in a foul mood, and whirled on him. Her razor-sharp claws dug into the luckless rat's flesh as she dragged him towards her by his shoulder.

"Listen here, scum," she snarled, baring yellowed fangs at his face, fuming. "I don't want to have to bare hearing another word from that impudent mouth of yours. So keep that civil tongue inside of your head or so help me I will **_cut it out!_**"

"Y-yes, Milady," Ripper stuttered, not daring to squirm out from the painful grip of the enraged warlord's claws.

"Huh," Destena sniffed as she dropped him, wrinkling her nose with undisguised disgust. "And if you want to know what my drive is, I suppose I will tell you. Although, I don't think that one with a brain as small as yours will be able to comprehend my words and fully understand it all."

Destena gave the quaking Ripper a condescending pat on the head and then continued, now strutting importantly around the rat captain. "It's because I want to be remembered by all of the vermin of the world by my great achievements. Many would attack that petty little abbey, Redwall. But it's merely full of pathetic, untrained mice! Hah, but Salamondastron, on the other hand, is led by a fearsome badgerlord and guarded by the elite Long Patrol. No, it's much better to be remembered by conquering a mountain full of trained beasts then a sad little abbey.

"And afterwards, I shall be idolized by every vermin. Feared by every goodbeast. Respected by every warlord for doing what has never been done before."

"Er, I suppose, Milady," Ripper hesitantly agreed, obviously still confused, but awkwardly trying to hide this. "Bu' thousands on both sides 'ill die."

"We'll both outnumber and outmatch them, you dimwitted _rat_," Destena hissed, spitting at the stone floor by his paws. "The ones dying will be the foul beasts of Salamandastron, fool. Now, before I end up losing what little patience that I have left, with you, you are to leave. Guards! Take this numb-brained fool out of my sight and keep a close eye on him. He is to be demoted from his ranking as a captain and if he makes one wrong move, don't hesitate to use your weapons on him. Kill him, if you must." Destena waved them away with a casual paw.

"Yes, Milady," one of the guards, a stoat, said as he saluted to her.

At that, the pair of stoats dragged poor shell-shocked Ripper out of Destena's chambers, muttering to each other and occasionally jabbing him with the points of their spears.

"We're gonna have lotsa fun with you."

"Huh. Wuddja do ta upset Milady, ya dummy?"

"Yu'd better move fasta or I'll skewer you, rat scum."

"Yeah. Wait'll we tell the otheras about the captain possition openin' up."

Destena sighed heavily and turned away from the doorway, already regretting her harsh actions towards Ripper. Ah, war was making her anxious and unpredictable, even she saw that. Maybe she couldn't wage war on Salamandastron. Maybe she just wasn't cut out for that sort of lifestyle.

Destena shook her head to clear it, deciding that she would just reappoint Ripper as captain in two days or so, just enough to make him taste his punishment. Hopefully he wouldn't be killed in the meantime. This would probably even give her a bit of an edge, as he would serve as an example to those thinking of rebelling. Furthermore, other beasts would work harder then ever in attempt to get noticed and appointed as a captain to replace Ripper.

Anyway, she knew that her utmost priority was currently to recruit more vermin. Destena would have to be tactful, as, though they were gullible and good in battle, her tropes could be quite idle-brained and dim. This could lead to the beasts of Salamandaston getting alerted of the upcoming attack. Those who dared not join would have to be killed or taken captive... She would have to tell her small army of her plans.

Ah, the army was currently looking pretty sad. Destena was clever and had the element of surprise to back her up, but the enemy beasts would have to be outnumbered in order to ensure her and her army's victory, although she currently only had about two hundred solders. If she lost against Salamandastron... Ooh, that would be horrible. Humiliation, defeat, and quite possibly even death would befall her. No, she had to win. After all, she couldn't lose!

* * *

Destena had rallied to hear what she had to say.

"Now, listen here, this is the plan," Destena explained, spreading out her paws over an ancient-looking map and pointing to certain points on the parchment as she spoke. "Okay, so we need more recruits, so about one forth of you go out and get some beasts to join us. Bind and gag those who refuse to join and take 'em back here as prisoners. Those dummies who retaliate-that means to fight and refuse to come for those dolts who don't know-further are to be killed.

"Another rough forth, you go off 'n' gather some food supplies. You might want to go off with the fist forth to take the food from those who are killed or captured. You will also demand those who agree to join to _kindly_ donate their food to our army. Also scower the forests, rivers, grasslands, and whatever other biome you dumb lot have brains enough to find and look for some edible things to eat.

"About two dozen or so of ya 'll search around for a good place to make a base for us. This sad little warehouse of a place is getting far to crowded for my liking. Anyway, ya all had better gather as many supplies as possible on your way there and back because we'll need it. I want all of you to report back in about two hours or so, okay? If something important happens that needs my knowin' then sent a scout or two to report back. Got that?

"Now, I want the rest of you to stay here and guard our shabby temporary base. Report to me if there's even the slightest evidence of something suspicious lurking about, m-kay? Now scat!"

All of Destena's army nodded and broke away, arguing about who would be on which patrol. Most of them wanted to be on either the recruiting patrol or the food-gathering force. This was because of the perks of free food and the promise of exercising their sward-paws.

Destena rolled her eyes and dashed up the creaky stairs, longing for a nice long , two hour nap. Let them figure out who would be unlucky enough to have to go on the patrol that would be finding a new base and hauling heavy supplies back to the warehouse. Destena had already played her part. Everything was now organized and planned out. There were a few more things that needed to be done, but that could be taken care of later.

Right now was the time for the future conquerer of Salamandastron to take a nice, sweet nap.

-Symph-


	4. Chapter Three- The Badgerlord

Hello, there, viewers! I haven't posted an author's note with my story yet, and I thought that now would be a good time. I just wanted to say thank you to Red Velvet Fox for reviewing and following my story and to RapmarkSkaup for favoriteing and reviewing _Outcast_. I am pleased to have received two positive reveiws and am hoping to get some more on this chapter and those following it. Thank you very much for reading (and for hopefully reveiwing!).

* * *

Borgear sighed heavily, overlooking the desert land below his perch atop the mountain. Ah, these were stressful times. A small village nearby had been burned mysteriously to the ground for no apparent reason. All of its occupants were fount to be either missing or dead. Despite the fact that it had been a vermin village, it was still quite horrible. And all of this death and despair had occurred quite recently. Borgear cursed himself for having not known when something could have been done for all of those poor beasts. Why, if not for the Long Patrol, he would never have known that it had ever happened.

Speaking of those annoying hares, a swift, energetic sort of breeze told the huge badgerlord that one of them had entered the balcony. As he turned around to face the unknown hare, he heaved another heavy, depressed sigh. What stressful things hares were! But before Borgear could even see who it was, the hare spoke.

"Howdy-dowdy, there, old chap, Milord," the hare said cheerfully, coking an ear and winking, "Chief Boring Gears."

"Luren, you cheeky little fiend!" Borgear snarled, threateningly baring yellowed fangs. "You had better start showing me more respect, hare, or I'll have your empty head mounted upon my wall!"

"Oh, you wouldn't do that to your good ol' Luren, would you me old Boring Gears?" the hare said, chuckling impudently and nudging Borgear in the shoulder in a friendly fashion. "After all, we've always been the best of chums, righto, old lad?"

"Never have I been so insulted in my entire life," the badgerlord growled in a sarcastic tone, curling his lip and pulling away from Luren, who remained cheerful despite the rude comment.

"Hahaha, that's a good one, me chum," Luren laughed, proceeding to elbow Borgear in an annoying manner.

"What is it that you want, Luren?" the great badger grumbled sulkily, not eager to be further tormented by the irritating hare.

"Well, guess what I've found, old chum." Luren was holding something behind his back, as Borgear now realized. "Your dear old teddy bear!" Luren enthusiastically thrust out his paws.

"How did you get a hold of that?" the badgerlord cried in an undignified manner, backing away a few paces, to afraid of his fearsome reputation to be lost to realize that the hare's paws were empty.

"Ha, ha, ha!" Luren laughed merrily, eyes alight with teasing mirth. "I didn't even know you had one, doncha know!"

"Why you little-!" Borgear had to, with great difficulty, restrain himself from swearing at the hideous hare. "I'll kill you when I get my claws on your ungrateful hide, you fiendish hare!" The badger swiped at the unprotected hare with blunt, but powerful paws.

Luren dodged the fearsome blow with swift ease. "Ahaha, _if_ you get your claws on my 'ungrateful hide,' that is, old chum," Luren laughed giddily at this and winked impudently at the fuming badgerlord.

"YOU'LL REGRET THAT, HARE!" Borgear roared.

But before he could make another move, Luren had vanished off to somewhere inside of the great mountain. For the third time in the past thirty or so minutes, Borgear sighed. Inside of Mount Salamandastron, he could hear Luren with his friend, or 'chum' as the hares always said, Celite. They were laughing up a storm, giddily unaware of the badgerlord's knowing of their mirth. Or were they merely trying to torment him further?

Ooh, how did disrespectful fiends like those two ever get on the Long Patrol, anyway?

* * *

Coropora giggled to herself as she recollected Luren and Celite's 'show' that they had delightedly given the members of the Long Patrol during what had began as a boring dinner. Borgear the badgerlord had ended up with a piece of asparagus stuck up his nose! Teral, a Long Patrol high officer, and Borgear had been so mad... In fact, if she hadn't stopped him, Coropora was sure that the short-tempered badgerlord would have ripped poor Luren limb-from-limb. The luckless hare was sentenced to do meal cleanup duty for the next year instead of a punishment of painful death. Which she would rather prefer as punishment, Coropora didn't know.

Ah, but the fiery-tempered badgerlord was sure to forget the punishment in a couple of months and the kinder hares would volunteer to do cleanup instead of Luren. And surely, by then most of the those in Salamandastron will have forgotten the whole thing. That is what always happened.

Poor Luren was like a child being picked on by a cruel teacher with Borgear. Even though it was both Celite and him that had, in the badgerlord's opinion 'ruined dinner,' Celite unjustly had gotten off scot-free. And even Celite, being the good friend that he was, agreed that this was immensely unfair. He often helped Luren with the undignified duty.

As of now, kindhearted Coropora was secretly helping Luren with the cleanup. He was doing the dishes while she cleaned off the tables, chairs and floors. She decided that the badgerlord Borgear must have merely been in a bad mood.

This is what Coropora always thought when Borgear did something like this. If he threatened to kill Luren, nearly banned him from the Long Patrol, shouted at him, or did anything of the likeness, Coropora assumed that the badger had had a bad day. She always saw the best in everybeast, no matter what their faults were.

As the two hares cleaned, they talked.

"I just wanted to thank you, good chum," Luren said brightly, momentarily ceasing the washing of dirty dishes to give her a polite bow.

"Oh, you _are_ a gentlebeast, aren't you?" Coropora giggled jokingly. "Haha, this isn't to bad, right Luren?"

Luren's tone darkened. "Well, I must tell you, Boring Gears does seem to be more like a vermin then a goodbeast, wot!"

"What?" Coropora gasped playfully, placing a paw over her mouth in feigned shock. "You daren't say that about yer great badgerlord, doncha know." This was an uncanny imitation of the stern hare Teral that would often lecture unfortunate Luren on such matters.

Little did the blissfully joking pair know, danger was approaching...

-Symph-


End file.
